The Curse of the Pharaohs
by scarlett2112
Summary: Thousands of years ago, the boy King, Tutankhamen ruled. Few know the details of his life - no one knows the secrets of his death. After an archeological expedition discovers his tomb, people mysteriously begin to die...
1. Chapter 1

**_I wasn't going to post this yet but one of our readers is going through a rough time so this chapter is dedicated to her. _**

* * *

_Death Shall Come On Swift Wings To Him Who Disturbs the Peace of the King..._

In 1891 a young Englishman named Howard Carter arrives in Egypt. Over the years he becomes convinced that there is at least one undiscovered tomb... That of the almost unknown King Tutankhamen.

* * *

Damon awakens slowly. He's on his side, pressed into Elena's warm body. His arms are around her, one hand cupping her breast. Closing his eyes, he nuzzles his face into her hair and pulls her closer.

When a soft hand glides across his already hard length, his eyes snap open. Elena's small fingers are tracing the contours of his erection. Futilely he tries to suppress the groan that escapes then he shifts slightly and teases the spot behind her ear with his tongue. She rolls to face him, his member still in her hand as she continues to stroke him. The way she looks at him with her dark sleepy eyes makes him even harder. His gaze locks with hers causing her to tighten her grip, allowing her to pull moisture from the tip. Catching it with her thumb, she spreads it around the head.

"Good morning," she says in a soft, low voice.

God, she is perfect. In his entire life, he's never seen anyone as beautiful as the woman who said "I do."

He reaches down and hooks her leg behind the knee, pulling it up over his hip so that he can run his fingers down her stomach and into her warmth. He moans at how ready she is from just touching him.

"Mmmm," he murmurs as he teases her clit, earning a heady gasp from her luscious mouth. He leans forward for a taste and the deeper he kisses her, the harder she strokes.

"Damon," she moans, as his lips trail down her neck and his fingers slip inside of her.

"On your knees," he grunts and sucks her hard pink nipple into his mouth, scraping it lightly with his teeth.

With a deep audible breath, Elena pulls away slightly, rolls onto her stomach and brings her knees up to display her curvaceous ass. Meeting those brown eyes again, he loses himself for a few seconds for in those earthy hues is the kind of beauty that expands a moment into a personal eternity.

Slowly he swipes his tongue over his lips at the desire he sees burning in them.

With the same hunger reflecting in his own, he traces up her leg with his mouth as he moves to kneel behind her, taking in every inch of her body and enjoying the view immensely. His hands squeeze and mold her perfect backside.

With an ardent moan, she pushes back, rubbing herself against his length.

"Please, Damon," she whimpers, tantalizing him with a wiggle.

He pulls his hips back, positioning himself before slamming into her warmth. His hands grip her waist, holding her still while he fights back the release that already wants to rip its way out of him. Elena arches her back earning an intense groan from Damon at the way her body grips his considerable length even tighter. He pulls out slowly and then slams back inside, pulling her back against him as he thrusts forward.

"Damon," Elena gasps as her head flies back

As much as he wants to let go, he keeps up the rhythm, repeatedly earning a needy whimper from her lips.

Her hands snake under the pillows to press against the headboard, giving her leverage to push back with each of his forward thrusts, increasing the maddeningly glorious friction.

Damon tries to maintain the pace, but Elena arches and grinds back against him, trying to get everything he has to give.

Faster.

Harder.

Deeper.

His grips tightens with one hand while the other snakes around her belly and between her legs. His hips pound relentlessly, racing them both toward their release. Using the pad of his index finger, he rubs her little bundle of nerves and listens for the change in her breathing which tells him she's close.

Elena chants his name as her hands push harder against the headboard. The few seconds before an orgasm feel so primal— she's not focusing on anything else except this rising, inexplicable wave. Her body tenses, her hands drop and she whimpers as the giant explosion starts deep inside and radiates from her belly button to her clitoris.

Feeling her walls fluttering around him, he nearly loses his mind at how good it is. Continuing his relentless pursuit, Damon feels his release beginning to build and chases after it. His free hand plants into the mattress on one side of Elena's head and his teeth sink into her flesh as it explodes out of him, ripping an intense groan from his throat.

He collapses over her back until he can suck in a much needed breath of air. Pulling out gently, he rolls off of her and onto his side. As soon as Elena shifts to face him, he draws her close and cradles her in his arms. He kisses her deeply then pulls away, throws his legs over the side and sits up.

"As much as I'd like to stay in bed and do this all day with you, we have to get to work," he pouts adorably.

Elena gives him a beaming smile, lets him pull her out of bed and into the shower for another round before they quickly dress and hurry to the dig sight in Egypt's Valley of the Kings.

* * *

November 1922

Egypt's Valley of the Kings is a desolate place. Located near the Nile River across from the ancient city of Thebes*, the arid valley supports no vegetation and provides no shelter from the relentless sun. The ground is a mixture of sand and small rocks that broil in the sun's heat. Temperatures average 90 degrees Fahrenheit during winter, in summer they soar into the 120s.

This is the place the Egyptian pharaohs of over 3000 years ago chose to be interred in tombs buried beneath the lifeless landscape. Surrounded in death by treasures of unimaginable value, the pharaohs hoped to elude discovery by grave robbers that had violated the burial vaults of their predecessors. Their efforts were unsuccessful; thieves pillaged all of the buried tombs in the valley - except one, that of Tutankhamen who died around 1346 B.C.

"Dammit," Elena snaps, slapping at a mosquito. Her skin is damp with sweat as she's covered to protect her skin. She and her husband Damon are archeologists working with Howard Carter's team.

"What's the matter?"

"Mosquitoes. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't curse but..."

Damon stands up and walks over to her, lifts the netting from her face and presses a quick kiss to her lips. Wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm, he looks around, nodding when Mr. Carter waves his arm for them to join him.

"He's back," Elena mentions, knowing that Lord Carnarvon had summoned him back to England to discuss the search. After they quickly take a swallow of water from their canteen, they hurry over to where he's standing.

"What does he have with him?" Damon looks at Elena curiously. When they're close enough, they can see he has a yellow canary in a birdcage.

Stepping in beside Damon is another man, Mr. Carter's foreman, Reis Ahmed. When they're within a few feet of their leader, the corners of his mouth lift.

"A golden bird!" Reis exclaims, "It will lead us to the tomb!"

* * *

Later in the day, she and Damon start clearing away some debris left over from the building of the tomb of Ramesses IV. Suddenly Elena's eyes widen when she finds a step cut into the rock. Standing up, she tugs on her husband's shirt.

"Look here," she shouts excitedly, pointing to her discovery.

"I love you Elena," he kisses her soundly then whistles to the others, signaling with his arm for some of the other workers to join them.

"Mr. Carter, over here," Elena yells when she sees him. His mouth drops for a moment and he quickly orders the steps to be cleared of sand and debris.

"Great work, Elena."

His eyes meet hers then drift to the door, his smile widening as he runs his fingertips over the words.

"Elena, I think we may have found it," he grabs her hand, holding it tightly for a few seconds. Too excited to sleep, they all stay at the site overnight and by noon the next day the doorway is revealed. This door is stamped with the seal of the royal necropolis. It depicts Anubis standing above five defeated enemies.

"I can't believe it, after all this time..."

"This is what archeology is," he shakes Damon's hand and then those of the rest of his workmen. "Listen it's late, we'll keep guards here for the night and return first thing in the morning. Get some sleep, you'll need it."

"Thank you, Mr. Carter."

He nods and quickly departs to send a telegram to Lord Carnarvon.

_Have made wonderful discovery in valley; a magnificent tomb with seals intact, re-covered same for your arrival; Congratulations._

As much as Damon and Elena want to burst through that door right now, they'll have to wait to see how their benefactor wants them to proceed. Walking backwards up the steps, she links her hand with Damon's and together head back to their place.

* * *

When he arrives home that night, Howard Carter is met at the door by his servant. In his hand he clutches a few yellow feathers. His eyes large with fear, he reports that the canary has been killed by a cobra. Carter tells the man to make sure the snake is out of the house. Not wanting to be dismissed, the man grabs Carter by the sleeve, stopping him in his tracks.

"The pharaoh's serpent ate the bird because it led us to the hidden tomb! You must not disturb the tomb!"

* * *

_*Thebes is Modern day Luxor._

_I hope you liked the first chapter of this very short story. You all know how I love to write DE into the history books. :)_

_Please keep my dearest friend Eva in your thoughts, she's not been feeling well. _

_I did post "Frostbitten" a couple of weeks ago. It's a lighthearted & fun romp in the snow. ;)_

_Thanks to all of you. You're the best, you lift our spirits when we're down and keep us excited to keep writing for this fandom. _

_Have a terrific day. We'll see you next time. _


	2. Wonderful Things

Scoffing at such superstitious nonsense, Carter sends the man home. He quickly sends a telegram to Lord Carnarvon in England and the group waits anxiously for his arrival.

* * *

Sunday, November 5.

By the time sun sets, Damon and the other workers have cleared down to the level of the 12th step, which is sufficient to expose a large part of the upper portion of a plastered and sealed doorway. Elena carefully walks down, stopping at her husband's side. Before them is sufficient evidence to show that it really is an entrance to a tomb, and judging by the integrity of the seals, to all outward appearances it is intact.

Damon steps aside to allow Mr. Carter to examine the exposed portion of the sealed doorway. While he's running his hands over it, Damon points out that the only decipherable impressions of the seals are those of the well-known Royal Necropolis seal, Anubis towering over his foes.

With the evidence of these seals, and the fact that the workmen's huts, which in all probability date from the time of the construction of Rameses VI's tomb, were built over the mouth of the entrance of this newly discovered tomb without apparently disturbing it, it is clear that its contents would be undisturbed at least since the XX Dynasty.

Damon signals for Elena to have a look. With her expertise in symbols, her presence is invaluable. "The seal-impressions suggest that it belongs to somebody of high standing but there's nothing more to indicate or confirm who it might be."

"Look at the top of the doorway, some of the plaster has fallen away, a heavy cement-like plaster has fallen away."

With Carter's nod, Damon makes a small hole under the wooden lintel in the right hand corner. With the aid of an electrical torch he's able to see that the passage is completely filled with stones and rubble up to the ceiling. "This is just more evidence of something that required careful closing."

"To find ourselves on the verge of something that may be magnificent, an untouched tomb after so many years, it's breathtaking," Elena adds, her hand over her thundering heart.

With certain reluctance and on Carter's instruction, Damon recloses the small hole that he made, and returns to another careful search among the seals to see if he can and the others can find some indication that would point to the identity of the owner, but it was to no avail for the small space bared by his excavation did not expose any impression sufficiently clear to be made out, other than that of the Royal Necropolis seal.

Elena lifts the mosquito netting off of her face and takes a swallow from her canteen. With Damon by her side, they're standing outside the tomb. Mr. Carter is examining the outer sections and upon close inspection, he believes that the tomb had been entered in ancient times but the innermost part of the tomb still appears to be intact.

"When is Lord Carnarvon due to arrive?" Damon asks, taking a long draw from his cigarette.

"Later this month, we cannot breach the entrance till he arrives."

"I understand that but while we're waiting, " Damon starts, "we can do some excavating around the area, maybe we'll find something else, another entrance perhaps?"

"Perhaps, Damon, perhaps," Carter replies, his eyes perusing the scene in front of them.

* * *

Damon strides purposefully through the lobby, ignoring the stares. His clothing separates him from the other occupants lounging in the elegant foyer. Black boots hit the marble floor with a measured cadence that causes heads to turn. The loose fitting leather jacket covers his pistol, there are thieves and pickpockets on every corner in the city. At first glance, he looks like an employee of building services rather than one of its tenants, but no one questions his presence in the upscale hotel.

Glances that start out as scathing soon change, as they take in his dark hair and blue eyes that linger on no one but miss nothing. An aura of danger keeps others from sliding too close to his personal space, and eyes that look and then shy away, turn back for a second one. Damon knows his appearance is attention worthy but he doesn't give it a second thought. His only focus is on the woman waiting for him in their room.

* * *

Having woken up with a horrible headache, Elena stayed in while Damon went to the marketplace to pick up some dates and other things. Tomorrow they're due back at the tomb as Lord Carnarvon and his daughter are expected to arrive. Then finally they can get their first look at what awaits them inside.

Suddenly the lock tumbles and her eyes pop wide open and she holds her breath, trying to listen for any other noise in the silent hotel suite. She'd gone to bed, only waking fully a short time ago. The bedroom door opens and he leans against the door jam, arms crossed, legs outstretched, familiar smirk on his face.

She sits up in bed, propping herself against the pillows. "Did you remember to get me some dates?"

"I did." He stays where he is. Even in the dark, she can see his gaze boring into her. Under his scrutiny, her chest gets tight and her breathing a little more shallow. She resists the urge to slide back down and pull the covers up to her chin.

When Damon speaks, his voice is gravely and a little husky, leaving no doubt as to where his mind is while he stares at her. "I didn't think you'd be awake."

"Actually I just woke up."

He doesn't sit on the bed, but instead stands by it. He leans down until his hands are resting on either side of her face, supporting his weight. Elena squirms underneath him, waiting for some action, a touch or simply a word. But he just stares – his face expressionless, his eyes anything but.

She wants to say something – anything – but nothing leaves her mouth. His gaze moves over her face - her lips and lower. Her breath comes out in a gasp as his eyes focus back on hers.

After what feels like an eternity, he shifts his body and lays down, almost, but not quite, covering her body with his. Elena sighs as she feels his weight settle over her. Somewhere in all of it, his pants hit the floor. A slow, warm heat fills her, building as his left hand drags up her body from her hip to her ribs, then exploding as it makes contact with her breast. She gasps and arches her back, lifting herself to him.

His hands search and caress her stomach and ribs. Trails of fire follow his fingers, making her breath catch with each new stroke. She's lying under him in only her panties. Then his hands slid down her hips, catching the waistband along the way and pulling them down her legs

Damon leans down. "I want you," his lips so close they brush hers. She moans and wraps her arms around his neck. His lips are on hers, seeking, probing, her tongue sliding against his. His hands still roaming over her body, heating her skin.

His arm slide under her back, pulling her closer and her legs wrap around his waist. Elena rips her mouth away from his in an effort to get air, but the sensations searing through her chest prevent much more than a gasp. His mouth drops to her breast, his tongue touching her nipple before his teeth close around it, biting, creating a shock of desire that spreads from her chest to her warmth.

Damon's working his mouth against one sensitive tip and then the other. His hand slides down her body, then inside, eliciting a sweet moan from her mouth.

"You have no idea what you do to me, Elena." His voice is thick with need and desire; his breathing is harsh. His eyes boring into hers are so black she can see into their depths and her own reflection at the same time.

"This is forever, no matter how long that is."

"I've always been yours, Damon."

He kisses her soundly and then slides into her, in one smooth, hard thrust. All the air leaves her body as she rises to meet him, still needing more, more. She pulls on his back, her nails digging into flesh and muscle as he pounds into her body. Whimpering, she tries to pull him even deeper.

His mouth moves against her ear. "Feel what you do to me."

Something in Elena's heart soars, along with her body. She's pulsing, throbbing, tightening around him and somehow he is filling more of her than he had only a moment ago.

"You're mine,"

He pauses, his eyes burning into hers, before thrusting again, harder. "Say it again." His voice is so low it's almost inaudible.

"You're mine."

It's mindless really, she's unable to focus on anything but the sheer necessity of his body inside of hers. His pace speeds up, she meets every thrust with a passion of her own. Elena can hear his ragged breathing in her ear, feel his heart pounding against her chest.

His hands tangle in her hair, pulling her mouth to meet his. The kiss is harsh, demanding, as if he needs as much of her as she does him. Her hands are on his body, everywhere. Elena plants her feet, lifting her knees, pulling him in. His control snaps and he drives into her a final time, flinging her over the edge along with him.

When Elena regains her senses, she looks around, it's dusk. Pinpricks of moonlight are edging into the room. His hand rubs over her hip, an absent gesture as he tries to regain his bearings. He is still lying on top of her. Lifting her head, she looks at his back – it's covered in scratch marks from her nails.

"I may have hurt you," she teases, her eyes twinkling.

Damon laughs, "I won't be the only one with bruises."

He moves off of her, wincing a bit as he does, and pulls her against his chest, kisses the back of her head and soon she feels the rhythmic rise of and fall of his chest as he sleeps. Smiling, she kisses her arm and then closes his eyes, soon joining him in slumber.

* * *

They get up early the next morning and go to the hotel's restaurant for a quick breakfast. Not yet feeling a hundred percent, Elena just orders tea and toast, earning a raised eyebrow from her husband.

"Are you getting sick?"

"No, I honestly think it's anticipation, nerves. Don't you feel it, the energy crackling through your veins at the thought of seeing what's inside? Is it going to be everything we went into archeology for in the first place or will it be another bust? We've already seen evidence of tomb robbers."

"I feel it, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about you. We had quite a workout last night," he winks, "you need to keep up your strength."

"How thoughtful of you," she laughs, thanking the waiter when he slides their plates in front of them. After finishing up and paying their tab, they make their way through the hotel and outside. It's a bustling city. They walk through the crowd to find their driver. Elena can't help but marvel at the architecture of the ancient city. The street is glorious in its inception, the sidewalks are smooth grey stones, joined with such precision that the seams are almost invisible. The buildings are nothing short of monoliths, the bastions of the city's pride, stamping its arrival on the map.

Damon grabs onto her arm when he sees their car, opening the door for her, she climbs in while he hops in the front seat beside Omar. After making pleasantries, the drive to the dig site is mostly silent. Both are brimming with nervous energy. When they arrive, they thank Omar and hurry over to join Mr. Carter and the other works.

"They're due today?" Damon asks, lighting a cigarette as he approaches Mr. Carter.

"They should be here soon. I received a telegraph that they had arrived in Alexandria."

"Oh Howard, it's like watching a clock tick," Elena laughs, snatching Damon's cigarette to take a pull of her own.

Suddenly a car pulls up. The driver jumps out to open the door, bowing his head as he does. There they are. Lord Carnarvon and his daughter, Lady Evelyn Herbert step out and with gentility closes the distance.

"Lord Carnarvon," Mr. Carter greets him, offering his hand. He removes his hat and tips his head to the young woman. "This is my group, Dr. Damon Salvatore and his wife, Dr. Elena Gilbert-Salvatore."

Then he waves his arm in front of the other men. "These are our diggers."

The regal man shakes each hand and then his eyes turn to the tomb itself.

Quickly the men remove the rubble from the sixteen steps to show Carnarvon and his daughter the discovery. Both see the royal stamp of Tutankhamun and the necropolis. Running his hand over it, corners of his mouth lift. "This is a long time coming. I've been funding you for a long time, I was ready to cut you off. I am very glad that you talked me out of it."

"Well, I guess that will be decided when see what's inside."

* * *

With everyone assembled, Carter starts to drill a hole into the plaster door. In the foreground, Carnarvon, Lady Evelyn, and Damon wait anxiously. Elena waits in the shadows, her eyes taking in the sites and sounds of this moment, though there is fear in her chest although she doesn't know why. It's not easy taking a step forward when she doesn't know where her foot will fall. She just can't shake her uneasiness but her attention drifts back to the door.

Carter makes the hole in the upper left-hand corner and starts to chip away at the opening. As the hole becomes larger, it allows him to peer inside. Damon lights a candle and hands it to him. He holds it up and into the darkness, permitting his eyes to adjust to the warm ancient air that exits the tomb. This air makes the candle flicker. The gold furniture becomes illuminated by the small flame of light. Carter stands frozen and looks on with amazement.

Lord Carnarvon who's waiting anxiously for any news quickly exclaims, "Can you see anything?"

Carter replies, "Yes, wonderful things."

* * *

_Thank you for opening and reading this story. We appreciate all your comments so much. I just really have fun adding DE to the historical record :) _

_Eva, my dearest friend and co-writer is in the hospital. She thanks all of you for the well wishes. Usually we both read it over before posting. It's only me right now and I do re-read the text several times and still miss some obvious things. I apologize for that._

_Have a safe and wonderful day... We'll see you next week with chapter 3 and the first murmurings of the 'Curse'..._


	3. Superstition

Howard steps back while Damon and a couple others work to make the hole large enough to allow them all to squeeze by. He turns back to look at Elena, troubled by the look on her face, the light sheen of sweat covering her forehead, the pallor of her skin and when her hand slips to her stomach, he's struck mute by the subtle changes he only now notices. Only now does he remember how her breasts felt fuller when he was making love to her and how much more sensitive they were to his mouth.

When she starts to move towards him, he hurries over to stop her. "I want you to wait out here."

"What? No! I'm going in too."

"Elena you have to, you're sick, we don't know what's in that tomb, 3000 years have passed, untouched by man. There could be bacteria, fungi, booby traps, anything... I'm not going to risk it when you're already feeling under the weather."

"No, Damon. I'm going in and you can't stop me," she growls between gritted teeth.

When she makes a move to skirt around him, he latches onto her upper arm and pulls her back. "If you're not going to think about yourself, consider your condition..." He raises an eyebrow pointedly at her.

"My condition!? What on earth are you talking about?" she snaps, glaring at him.

"Elena, come on, when was the last time you had your you know..."

Shaking her head, she jerks her arm free and steps back. The laughter evaporates from her eyes. Their customary warmth gone faster than summer rain in the Sahara. Indeed even her focus is somewhere behind him, as if he has become invisible to her. Damon's well aware that he's crossed an invisible line, offending her sensibilities.

Blood drains from his face and his heart hammers erratically. He is never afraid of her anger except when it comes as fire, for that burns hot and fast. But he will have to somehow return that loving spark to her eyes.

"Elena, I love you. You have every right to be upset and disappointed but please, just humor me this time."

Burning rage hisses through her body like deathly poison. It's like a volcano erupting; fury rolling off her in ferocious waves. "No, Damon, I've worked just as hard as you to bring this day to fruition. I'm going in."

"How about neither of us go in? I will stay out here too."

White knuckles from clenching her fists too hard exude an animosity like acid - burning, slicing, potent. Her face is red with suppressed rage, and when Damon reaches for her, she swings around snapping, "Why are you being like this?"

Damon moves to stand in front of her and lays his hands on her shoulders. His heart is hammering, he's chomping at the bit to see history being made but she's his priority, she always will be.

"Elena, I love you. You are literally the best person I've ever known. And for me to think I could ever change you is giving me way too much credit and you nowhere near enough… you're the good. And I need a little good in my life. And yes, your anger is justified but please listen to me," he pleads, his fingers gently massaging her soft flesh.

Elena bites her lip, eyes darting everywhere but him.

Then he moves closer so he can look so deeply into her own, "Hey, it's me."

Her breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting in the morning light. Her body squirms just a little as her muscles relax. There is something about that gaze of his she'll never find in another man, it's as if in this moment their souls make a bridge and she doesn't want him to miss the once in a lifetime opportunity.

Sighing, she meets his stare. "Fine we'll play it your way for now but at some point, I will be going inside. But you should be there," she nods at the tomb's entrance.

"Thank you," he breathes, leans forward to kiss the top of her head and then hurries down the steps just as the others are entering the Antechamber. The air is warm and a faint smell of perfume and oil fill it. Catching a whiff, Damon's glad that she's waiting for them outside. He looks around his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape, the tomb looks as if it has remained intact since the day it had been sealed.

Carter holds up the candle that flickers frantically as they move about the tomb to view all the objects. As the candle lights it to a small glow, three animal couches are visible. As they search about, Lady Evelyn turns her light to the left, finding a pile of broken chariots littering the room. Carter defers to Damon, he explains that tomb robbers most likely trashed the chariots in search of gold.

At the end of the room and to their right two statuesque guards are seen. They are life-sized statues of the king holding maces and staffs. With so much excitement crackling in the thick atmosphere, they all agree to back out and explore more of the remaining tomb tomorrow.

* * *

The next day, Damon comes prepared with electric lights and they are setup inside the tomb. Even though Elena is still fuming at him, she doesn't go inside. In her many and varied imaginings of this day never did it occur to her that she wouldn't be going in along with everyone else. She has no idea why she allowed him to talk her out of participating in such a magnificent, literally earth-shattering event.

When they left the dig sight yesterday, they went to a doctor, confirming their suspicions. She's staying topside to placate him but she's not happy about it and watches with fisted hands while Damon enters the tomb with Mr. Carter, Lord Carnarvon and his daughter.

Breaking through the sealed door, they find a passageway filled with stone and rubble. Damon and Carter clear it, revealing another sealed door marked with the royal impressions of Tutankhamun. Carter is sure they've found the king's tomb, but he is afraid it may have been pillaged - its contents removed.

On November 26th Carter and Damon, with Lord Carnarvon at their side, start to break through this second sealed door. Carter pauses first turning to Damon and then the other man.

"This is the day of days, the most wonderful that I have ever lived through."

* * *

Over the past two and a half months, the archeological team carefully clears all the items from the first two rooms. In the interim, she has walked into the anteroom of the tomb but Damon insists that she not go further, citing her delicate condition._ She'll delicate condition him alright... _

Every word stings, only fueling the fire that burns inside of her. Every violated phrase is like gasoline to it, her fists began to clench and her jaw roots.

Damon knows he's walking on thin ice with her but her safety and wellbeing is paramount to him. He brings her pictures and although it hardly satisfies her, it's something. She has been assisting the curator of the Cairo museum. Together they've been working feverishly to catalog the priceless pieces. At least she isn't completely in the dark about the tomb's riches.

The treasury room was stocked with many items such as shrines, chests, boats, and two of King Tutankhamen's believed to be stillborn daughters. This room had been easily accessed directly through the burial chamber on the eastern side of the room's wall. A statue guard with a large portable shrine of the jackal-headed god named Anubis was strategically placed at the entrance.

Another magnificent item found within this room is a carved wooden shrine gilded in gold that contains four canopic jars of Tutankhamun. This shrine has four goddesses on each side named Selket, Isis, Nepthys, and Neith. Their presence around the shrine was used to ward off any evil and to safeguard the organs for eternity. The canopic jars that were placed within this shrine are alabaster. They are finely carved and painted with black markings showcasing the pharaoh's features in fine detail. These alabaster jars each contain a tiny coffinette that holds the pharaoh's organs—all of which are neatly nestled within the shrine.

Many smaller statues of the king are also placed amongst the treasure within the room. Since Elena hasn't entered, Damon and other marked their location in journals before bringing them outside. From there they're being transported to the Cairo museum for permanent exhibition.

This room contains 14 boats. They acted much like shabti and were evoked by magic for the pharaoh to use in his afterlife and everyday proceedings thereafter. Some of the boats were intended to float the pharaoh through the 12 hours of night and darkness before the sun would rise again. All the boats within the tomb point toward the west. Every time Damon walks into the tomb, he's that much more amazed. Sometimes he has to literally pinch himself to attest the veracity of this magnificent dream.

Finally, Carter is ready to break through a fourth sealed door into what he and Damon believe to be King Tut's tomb - the holy of holies where the pharaoh would be found in his golden casket. On February 16, 1923, Damon under Carter's watchful eye locates the wooden lintel above the door: then very carefully he chips away the plaster and picks out the small stones which form the uppermost layer of the filling. The temptation to stop and peer inside at every moment is irresistible, and when, after about ten minutes' work, he has made a hole large enough to enable him to do so.

Damon steps back while Carter inserts an electric torch. An astonishing sight is revealed, for there, within a yard of the doorway, stretching as far as he can see and blocking the entrance to the chamber, stands what to all appearances is a solid wall of gold. For the moment there is no clue as to its meaning, so as quickly as he dares, and Damon set to work to widen another hole...

With the removal of a very few stones the mystery of the golden wall is solved.

"Yes," Damon pumps his fist in the air. They are at the entrance of the actual burial-chamber of the King, and that which barred their way is the side of an immense gilt shrine built to cover and protect the sarcophagus. It was visible now from the Antechamber by the light of the standard lamps, and as stone after stone is removed, and its gilded surface comes gradually into view, they can, as though by electric current, feel the tingle of excitement which thrill the spectators behind the barrier...

"My God," Damon breathes, his jaw hanging open. Inside lay a sarcophagus with three coffins nested inside one another. The last coffin, made of solid gold, contains the mummified body of King Tutankhamen. Among the riches found in the tomb–golden shrines, jewelry, statues, a chariot, weapons, clothing–the perfectly preserved mummy was the most valuable, as it was the first one ever to be discovered. Despite rumors that a curse would befall anyone who disturbs the tomb, its treasures are carefully catalogued.

Tutankhamun's tomb located in the Valley of the Kings is by far the best preserved royal tomb ever discovered. The tomb, which was thought to be left intact, was believed to be robbed twice. Even though this tomb revealed treasure beyond their imagination, it is modestly furnished compared to the pharaohs before and after Tutankhamun's time.

This "humble" tomb has remained hidden for 3000 years and has eluded tomb robbers and flash floods for many centuries.

The day is one of joy and celebration for all of those involved...

* * *

_No one seems to be concerned about any curse. The first rumblings they hear of anything sinister is through best- selling novelist Marie Corelli in the "New York World"_

_"I cannot but think some risks are run by breaking into the last rest of a King of Egypt whose tomb is specially and solemnly guarded, and robbing him of his possessions. According to a rare book I posses - entitled "The Egyptian History of the Pyramids" - the most dire punishment follows any rash intruder into a sealed tomb." states her widely read article._

_Rumors would later circulate that Howard Carter had found a tablet with the curse inscribed on it, but hid it immediately so it would not alarm his workers and cause them to flee. He denies any and all such allegations. _

* * *

On a rare day off from cataloging the tomb's treasures, Damon and Elena are strolling in the marketplace. It's a bright spring morning, hot but not too hot yet anyway, perfect for a day at the street bizarre. The sky is dotted with a smattering of wispy cotton-like clouds. Hand in hand, they make their way through the large crowd.

Elena isn't surprised by the size of it, they're in a big city and she's brimming with nervous energy herself. She's been working with the curator at the Cairo Museum to protect and study the relics, preserving them for future generations.

Faint music is audible from drums and flutes and an occasional happy scream pierces the air. Damon's wearing his stylish fedora and leather jacket, his pistol safely stowed in a shoulder holster.

Smells of dates roasting and the undeniable scent of blue lotus permeates the air. "We should move a little faster, you don't need to get drunk on the effects of that stuff," he raises an eyebrow, pulling her deeper into the crowd.

"Let's get a drink, I'm thirsty," Damon says, squeezing her hand, smiling when she looks up at him.

There are food stands with dried meat, dates, nuts, rugs and scimitars, handcrafted sabers and knives. Damon eyes one with an ivory handle but decides against it. He hates the idea of an animal having to die to procure the ivory.

When they reach a cantina, they walk inside and quickly retreat when everyone stares at the two of them. Damon quickly realizes that only men are inside, the air thick with the smell of tobacco. One of the waiters directs them to the outside cafeteria where they choose a table. He pulls a seat out for her and then sits down himself, setting their packages on an empty chair.

Leaning close to her ear, he kisses the spot behind it, the one that gives her goosebumps. He laughs when he sees them erupt on her skin. The waiter brings a bottle of whiskey and a glass for him while sliding a cup of tea in front of Elena.

"Sometimes this doesn't even seem real does it? That we're here and part of the biggest archeological find in history? Well one of us more than the other," Elena retorts in a biting tone. Without waiting for a reply, she picks up her cup to take a deep swallow.

"Elena, come on."

She sets her cup down and looks at him. He has that pouty look on his face and those almost sickeningly blue eyes - full on Prince Charming, field of cornflowers, perfect, cloudless sky blue. Someone should name a crayon after her husband. "You're incorrigible you know that?"

"Did it work?" he asks, quirking his brows, looking at her playfully.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, it feels surreal," he chuckles, stifling it when she frowns, "but you're here, you keep me grounded," he leans forward to kiss her cheek while his hand gives her bottom a little pinch.

"Damon," she squeaks, shakes her head and turns her attention back to the newspaper she picked up.

"What are you reading?" he asks when he hears her scoff.

"The writer of this article talks about a curse, "the most dire punishment follows any rash intruder into a sealed tomb."

"A curse?" he scoffs, "it's just a ploy to sell the paper."

"Of course," she agrees, links her hand with his and settles back in her chair to watch the crowd.

* * *

Damon kisses Elena goodbye when he drops her off at the warehouse where the antiquities are being housed awaiting transport to the Cairo museum. Damon heads to the dig site. As soon as he steps out of the car, he thanks the driver and lights up a cigarette, taking a long drag as he walks towards the tomb entrance. Stopping to chat with some of their diggers, he nods and starts to laugh when one of them tells a joke. Out of his peripheral vision, he notices Mr. Carter reading something, he appears deep in concentration. Wondering what's up with that, he approaches when he notices the troubled look on the man's face.

"Everything alright, Howard?" Damon asks, flicking the cherry from the end of his cigarette.

"It's Lord Carnarvon, he's dead..." the man looks up, shock evident on his face.

"What happened?" Damon asks, stunned himself.

"He was bitten on the cheek by a mosquito, it became infected, he developed a high fever and chills. By the time the doctor arrived, it was too late. What's really strange is that at the exact moment he died, the lights in Cairo mysteriously went out..."

Damon stares at the cigarette between his fingers. It is almost short enough to burn him. With an effort, he drops it on the ground and crushes it with his boot.

* * *

1924

Still hard at work with Tomb related business, Damon walks into Howard's tent. On the table top is a laid open newspaper. Circled in ink is an article about Sir Bruce Ingham, a friend of Carter's. His mentor gave the man a small golden scarab bracelet that had been found in the burial chamber, still attached to a mummified hand.

He remembers feeling an unnatural chill when he read the _sinister _inscription on the bracelet, "Cursed be he who moves my body, to him shall come fire, water and pestilence."

The newspaper article reports that the man's house burnt down under mysterious circumstances shortly after receiving it.

"Your friend's house burned?" Damon asks, turning to face Mr. Carter when he enters the tent.

"It's coincidence Damon," he walks over to his cabinet and pours them each a glass of bourbon. Without saying anything, he clinks Damon's glass. His mind drifts to the jackal he saw recently. One similar to the same type depicted as Anubis, roaming about a region of the desert where they have not been seen for ages.

Sometime later they receive word that George Jay Gould, a wealthy American financier and railroad executive who visited the tomb in 1923 and fell sick almost immediately afterwards, dying of pneumonia a short time later.

Damon's never believed in the supernatural but he's starting to feel on edge with each new death they get word of. One particularly gives him chills. Sir Archibald Douglas Reid, a radiologist who x-rayed Tutankhamen's mummy before it was given to the museum authorities, fell ill immediately afterwards and died three days later.

Word also comes that Lord Carnarvon's half-brother Aubrey Herbert suffered the _curse_ merely by being related to him. According to the newspaper stoking the legend, the man was born with a degenerative eye condition and became totally blind late in life. A doctor suggested that his rotten, infected teeth were somehow interfering with his vision, and Herbert had every single tooth pulled from his head in an effort to regain his sight. It didn't work. He did, however, die of sepsis as a result of the surgery.

Tired after all, he and the others, Elena included have been working day and night for many months. His mind is heavy, troubled by all this talk of a curse. He's a scientist, but for the first time, he finds himself truly fearing the unknown.

The curse of the pharaohs is believed by some to be cast upon any person who disturbs the mummy of an Ancient Egyptian person, especially a pharaoh. This curse, which does not differentiate between thieves and archaeologists, allegedly can cause bad luck, illness and even death.

He's worried about Elena, he's worried about their baby and he's seriously considering packing their things and taking the first boat back to the United States. Deep in thought, he runs into a man, nearly knocking them both over. After apologizing, he gets in the elevator, leaning his head against the side of it after pushing the button for his floor. Once it dings, he steps out and drags himself to their suite. The door is unlocked, Elena's there.

As soon as she sees him, the flush of his skin, the beads of perspiration on his forehead and his slumping posture, she rushes over to him. Feeling the heat radiating from his skin, she helps him take his ever present leather jacket off and sit down on the couch.

Hearing a gasp, Elena turns around to see their son Robbie and their nanny. Words tumble from Heqet's lips like little pebbles onto sand. They drop too fast for Elena to catch them, each word flowing seamlessly into the next and is spoken so frantically that it's without meaning.

But she does pick up the word _"Curse"._

Standing up, she calmly approaches the young woman, instructing her to take Robbie to his room. The girl nods and quickly backs away, fear still shimmering in her big brown eyes. Hurrying back to Damon, Elena brushes a strand of sweat dampened hair off his forehead.

"You look terrible, Damon. I'll run a bath and then you're going to bed."

"Whatever you say," he mumbles, his head dropping back. Elena palms his cheek, he's burning up although she already suspected he had a fever. She gets up to find some aspirin and a glass of water.

Suddenly feeling his stomach roiling, Damon stumbles to the bathroom. With each step his stomach tightens and aches all the more. He keeps swallowing, and his throat keeps clenching, but no matter what he can't stop the warm feeling rising through his chest. Then he can taste it at the back of his mouth.

Damon buckles over the toilet, a warm, cloudy, cream colored liquid spills from his mouth, and sizzles as it splashes back at him when it hits the porcelain. Ashen faced, he clings to the rim as if it's a life raft. With a heaving lurch of his stomach another small mouthful of bile dribbles from his quivering lips into the waiting pool of rancid vomit. Waves of heat course through his blood, a cold sweat glistens on his gaunt features. His eyes sunken and his skin sallow, everything aches, everything sags.

Having heard the retching sounds, Elena finds him crumpled on the floor. Wetting a washcloth, she dabs the sweat from his forehead and then helps him to stand. He tries to wave her off when she offers him the aspirin but takes it anyway to placate her. With his arm around her shoulders, they start to walk to the bedroom.

When they reach the threshold, a pallor washes over Damon, it's as if he's been painted with a white-wash - even his lips are barely there. Then with one shaky step backwards he crumples like a marionette released from its strings.


	4. Going Home

Even under a light cotton sheet Damon's body emits heat like a glowing brick coming out of the oven. So diminished is his appetite that he eats nothing except the most watery of soups and even then it's only a few sips at best. She can hear his coughing and wheezing upon approach to his hospital room, it's a barking one that carries well through walls and the thick humid air.

In his delirium, he mumbles words about the curse, pleading with Elena in rare moments of lucidity to stay away from the tomb. After Robbie was born, she finally went inside to see Tutankhamen's final resting place for herself and has been back many times since. She's still in awe, gets goosebumps every time she walks down the steps and into the past, 3000 years ago to be exact.

Fever is burning Damon up, body and spirit. He lies there so still as his skin radiates the heat from his blood. His skin glows in the worst way and his limbs fall limply when the nurses raise them. His doctor, an American from Virginia is quite concerned about him, questioning Elena repeatedly about "the curse", even requesting to have a look at the site to see if anything could explain Damon's illness and mindset.

Damon isn't simply a man; he's someone she loves, would die for, or give up her place in the hereafter if it makes him safe. She feels so helpless, as obsolete as parched soil that blows over the desert sand.

_Wearing his battle armor, Damon slips on his helmet and takes the reins of his chariot. Looking out over horizon, the sky is blue, the birds sing and the sand is a golden sea. The Nile runs clear with reeds and bulrushes green and flourishing. His men salute him with a wave of their hands. Damon nods and urges his horses to move, leaving the city behind in a cloud of dust as they go to meet their enemies. _

_Sometime later, Damon finds himself alone in the desert, parched of thirst, his skin red and peeling. Spotting a coin, its engravings worn and the head of the king so tarnished as to be stolen from view and yet there's a familiarity to it. He holds it in his left, raising it so close to his face that he can see a hint of dried blood. He turns to his right hand and in the palm is a new spring leaf, crowned by a perfect sphere of dew, reflecting an image of his face, soft and relaxed. When he turns back to the coin, the image of himself. The face journeys over to the leaf, igniting the growth of strong roots and new foliage that reaches for the sunlight, robust, virescent. _

_Before he can make any sense of it, a vines break through the harsh desert sand and wrap themselves around his ankles, pulling him beneath the surface, his screams going unanswered as his head is pulled under. _

"Help me," he screams, his eyes snapping open and his arm jerks straight up as if he's reaching for someone.

"Damon, you're dreaming, wake up," Elena pleads, fear her predominant emotion, his screams startling her awake. It's been two days and he's no better, fever ravages his body and mind, his skin is damp, beads of sweat constantly forming on his forehead. Reaching for a washcloth, she presses it to his skin, his eyes follow her every move, suspicion burning hot in them.

"It's me, it's Elena," she says softly, cupping his cheek with her free hand.

"Elena?" he repeats and lurches upright in bed. With his illness, he's as weak as a kitten and nearly topples out of bed but she stops him from trying to throw his legs over. For the first time she can see recognition in his eyes.

Looking around, confusion replaces remembrance and he closes his eyes for a moment as if willing some normalcy. When he opens them again, he sighs loudly, this time they're pleading with her wordlessly to explain.

"Damon, you're in the hospital, you've been here for a couple of days."

"It's the curse, promise me you'll stay away from there, please Elena," he begs, gripping her dress in a fist so tight that his knuckles whiten.

"Damon, no it's not _the _curse, you have pneumonia."

"No, Elena, you have to prom...," his eyes roll back, his grip loosens and he drops back onto the mattress. Before she can summon help, Dr. Lockwood appears in the doorway.

"What happened?"

"He was lucid for a moment but then he fainted again I think. Please tell me he'll get better?"

"He's very ill, Dr. Salvatore."

"Do you think I don't know that? He thinks it's the King's curse."

"I know only what I've read and from hearsay around the hospital," Dr. Lockwood mentions while putting the stethoscope to Damon's chest.

"People have died but I refuse to believe that it's a curse," Elena says firmly. "I'm sure there's an explanation but there's no denying it has my husband spooked."

"It seems so yes," Tyler starts, "Perhaps you could take me out there, maybe I could have a look around?"

"Why?"

"Maybe there's something in the air, I don't know, 3000 years sealed tight, it's possible there's something there?"

Elena looks at Damon and then to Dr. Lockwood, nodding her head affirmatively. She'll do anything to help her husband recover.

* * *

With the doctor's assurance that Damon is resting comfortably and after seeing him for herself, she consents to taking him to the dig site. Their driver takes them on the long meandering road that leads out of the city and to the Valley of the Kings. Once they arrive, Elena waves at Mr. Carter, who drops what he's doing and hurries over to her.

"How's Damon?" he asks, concern etched all over his face.

"Thank you for asking, Howard. He's a little better, still feverish and often delirious but the doctor here," she nods her head to Tyler, "seems to think he's on the verge of turning a corner."

"I've received word that Hugh Evelyn-White passed away," Howard mentions, his gaze focusing on Elena.

"I can't tell Damon, in his delirium, he'll blame the curse," Elena's drift toward the tomb's entrance.

"Who?" Tyler interrupts.

"Forgive me, Howard, this is Damon's doctor, Tyler Lockwood," she turns her head to the physician, "and this fine man is the esteemed Howard Carter, the man whose vision led us all here." She pauses while the men shake hands.

"Hugh was a fellow British archaeologist, he visited the tomb. Apparently he hung himself after seeing death sweep over about two dozen of his fellow excavators —but not before writing, allegedly in his own blood, "I have succumbed to a curse which forces me to disappear."

"Oh Howard, that's madness," Elena rakes a hand through her hair.

"It is," he agrees then turns to Tyler, "Dr. Lockwood, are you here for a specific reason?"

"Yes, I was hoping to get a peek inside... I wonder if it's perhaps the air that's making people ill?"

"The air? I haven't gotten sick," Howard posits, his eyes drifting to Elena.

"No but others have, including Dr. Salvatore. I just wanted to see for myself, unless you object of course?"

Shaking his head no, he extends his elbow allowing Elena to latch on and the two of them lead him down the sandstone steps and into the main body of the tomb. Tyler is amazed by the paintings on the walls, the grandeur of ancient Egypt. It's like he's suddenly been transported back in time, a time of opulence and the rule of the Pharaohs.

Elena leads him through a corridor that takes them to an antechamber and an annex still containing some objects although Elena has helped catalog many of them. The antechamber opens into the coffin chamber that housed King Tutankhamen's sarcophagus. That chamber leads into another small room that was filled with the boy king's treasures.

"We found two tiny mummified female fetuses. We suspect they were the King's daughters, they wouldn't have been given such an honor were they not," Elena mentions and Tyler nods, transfixed and unable to speak.

"Does anything stand out to you, as far as the air you're breathing?"

"I can't really say now, the tomb has been open to the fresh air for a long time now, but your husband was one of the first people inside. I don't know if it could be that or if there's something else inside here, a bacteria, a mold anything?" he questions, eyeing the place feverishly, trying to make a photographic record in his mind as he knows he'll never have this opportunity again. Walking over to the wall, he runs his hand along the cool rough surface. He doesn't know what's making Damon sick but he's certain the answer lies within these walls.

* * *

"Careful Damon, you're nowhere near at full strength yet," Elena cautions while helping him into the bathroom. Once he's safely seated, she backs out and closes the door. It's mindboggling how quickly he recovered. She could have been knocked over by a feather when she and Tyler returned from the tomb, only to find Damon sitting up in bed, sipping on a bowl of soup, his mind clear and the pallor gone.

"Thank you, Heqet," she remarks, taking baby Robbie into her arms. She bounces him and coos to him, earning a sweet smile in return. His bright blue eyes find hers and he laughs, as only a baby can a sweet sound unblemished by the hurts of life. His little face glows and his tiny fingers grasp hers and hold tight. She kisses his cheek and holds him tightly to her chest. When she hears Damon, she hands him back to their nanny and goes to him.

"Let me help you," she scolds, pulling up his trousers and fastening the button.

"I hate this, being helpless I mean."

"You're not helpless, you just need some time to recover fully. Dr. Lockwood said it's a miracle, he didn't expect you to survive... He only just told me that."

"I'm sorry I worried you."

"Worried me, I was terrified of losing you, I'm grateful to whatever miracle landed in your back pocket," she winks at him and helps him over to the couch. Once he's settled and comfortable, she throws a blanket over him and stares at the force of nature she married.

"No more talk of curses okay?" he asks, reaching for her hand, pressing a kiss to the top of it.

"No more, it's a marvel that you're here talking to me right now. And don't you ever do that again," she scolds, leaning forward to cup his cheek lovingly. Hearing babbling, she picks Robbie up and plops on his dad's lap. Damon smiles that earth shattering one of his.

Holding the baby snuggly in his arms, Damon reads him a story. He can feel blackness begin to come over him. Setting the book down, he shifts onto his side, swaddling his son in his arms. Pulling the blanket up over his shoulders, his eyes feel heavier and heavier till sleep drags him under.

* * *

The white buildings are rectangular and protrude proudly from the desert sands. Stalls crowd the market place and children play. The Egyptians greet Damon with dazzling smiles, hoping he will buy their wares. Their stalls are covered with magnificently bright cloth. They sell browned fish, hard bread, shimmering jewels, shining metals, crisp, pristine linen, and juicy figs. A dancer, dressed in a gauzy white tunic, twirls in the streets and the crowd tosses golden coins to her. Hungry for something sweet, Damon hands a golden coin to a merchant, missing a front tooth. The man smiles and weighs it on a scale before handing him a honey roll. The roll is pure white and coated in sticky, sweet honey. He takes a bite, his face reflecting the pure bliss as the flavors blend on his tongue. Offering it Elena, she takes one too, savoring the fluffy pastry.

When they return to their hotel, their driver is waiting, Damon opens the door and she crawls in with him right behind her. Arriving at the site, Damon is in awe of the pyramids as they rise up, almost meeting the sky. The endless expanse is ever-changing, its various colors of navy blue, black, lavender, robin's egg blue, turquoise, and a fiery tangerine painting the dome above him. Sometimes the clouds are puffy and tall, other times they are no more than mere wisps, dashed across the sky by some divine paintbrush. Sometimes twinkling stars dangle from the heavens, sometimes the luminescent, white moon, and other times the blindingly radiant sun.

It's the first time he's been here since he got sick. Stepping out of the vehicle, he tips his fedora back and lights a cigarette.

Howard rushes over to greet them, shaking Damon's hand vigorously. "Good to have you back."

"It's good to be back, Howard," Damon smiles, and looks over his shoulder at the tomb's entrance.

"It would seem you survived the curse," the man jokes, winking at Elena.

"No more talk of curses for me," he shakes his head, a little embarrassed at his foolishness.

"There's still newspaper articles attaching it to anyone who has had any kind of connection to the tomb whether directly or indirectly."

Damon nods, takes one more pull on his cigarette then stomps it out. "Let's get to work, Howard." He extends him arm gesturing for Damon to lead the way while Elena veers off to speak to the Egyptian minister of antiquities.

After working hard all morning, Damon goes in search of something to quench his parched lips. The cruel sun beats down, it's one malevolent eye unblinking, and the sky is its co-conspirator with not even a wisp of cloud to soften the harsh rays. The lizards take shelter in the shadows of the rocks where the sand is not hot enough to roast them. Each step sinks into the searing sand, the air is thick and hazy, each breath like drowning in larva. Pouring himself a ladle full of water, he sucks it down followed by a couple more. Sitting down, he takes off his fedora and wipes his sweaty hair with his forearm.

"There you are, shirking?" she teases, leaning forward to steal a kiss before helping herself a drink too. Sitting down beside him, she sips on her water, almost sighing at how good it tastes.

"Can I ask you something?" Damon asks, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.

"Of course."

"Why didn't you say anything about Mr. Evelyn-White?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Malachi mentioned it, he was surprised I came back," he lights up another cigarette as he waits for her answer.

"Damon, think about that question for a moment... You were deep in delirium and I didn't want upset you anymore with news of another death."

He stares at her for a minute, considering her answer. Taking her hand, he gives it a squeeze, "I love you."

"I love you too."

* * *

1928

Elena takes Robbie's hand and with Damon beside her, they walk down the pier. Her shoes clack over the various hues of the wooden boards, some newer planks with their bright unworn look, others dull and beaten by the salty air. She savors the scent as the wind blows through her long brunette hair.

People sit on benches, their gazes on the sea. The wooden rails are spattered with bird droppings, crows hop around hoping for crumbs or tidbits of food. Children stand on the lowest rail and lean over the edge. Metal ramps lead down to floating wooden walkways that rise and fall with the tide.

"Look mommy," Robbie exclaims, pointing at the purple starfish that carpet on the bottom of the thick support beams. Sea gulls mill around the wooden stilts leaving temporary impressions of their webbed feet in the sandy mud flats.

When they reach their gang plank, Damon turns around to shake the hand of Howard Carter who accompanied them to the seaport to say goodbye. "Well Howard," Damon sighs and pulls him in for a hug. "We'll be back in a few months. Take care of the place," he laughs.

"I intend to, it'll be lonely around here without you two," he muses, ruffling Robbie's hair and handing him a couple pieces of hard candy.

"Goodbye Howard," Elena gives him a hug, her eyes misting up at having to say goodbye.

"I'll miss you both, have a safe trip and we'll see you in six months."

"As soon as this little one is born," she gives a cursory glance to her barely visible bump, "we'll be back and ready to work before you know it."

"There'll be plenty left to do when you return."

When the ship's horn blares, Damon shakes the man's hand one more time and follows Elena and Robbie onto the ship. They stand along the ship's railing to wave goodbye as the ship begins to move, plumes of smoke rising from its funnels.

* * *

Elena feels a hot breath, then the tender brush of his lips, burning as they make contact with her neck. A hand runs through her hair, as the kisses become harder and more urgent. Another hand slides around her waist, and pulls her close to his body. His kisses are now on her shoulders and in her hair. She's always amazed at how one touch of his lips can hitch her breath.

Before she can catch it, his body is resting on top of hers, his weight seeping onto her and his ragged breathing in her ear. Heat pools low in her belly and she tightens her arms around him, begging for more. His hands trail down, leaving a trail of fire in their wake and she arches her back.

His fingers find her wet and ready so he slides one inside of her, groaning when she tightens around him. And then he kisses her again, his tongue plunging into her mouth, setting up a primal rhythm. Then with one long, smooth thrust, he's inside of her. Wrenching her mouth from his, Elena cries out at the sensation.

Driving into her over and over, Damon goes deeper each time, hitting a spot that she didn't even know existed. He slows, burying himself inside of her with each thrust. He groans with the pleasure of it, a sound that has her body clenching down, pulling him in further. His mouth finds her cheek and her jaw, his hand goes to her breast and his teeth scrape over her neck and bite down. Her body shatters and drags him into a sweet oblivion right along with her.

After their vigorous round of lovemaking, Damon stares deeply into her brown eyes. In those earthy hues resides her soul with the kind of beauty that expands a single moment into a personal eternity. He cups her cheek that's slowly turning red. Finally his lips touch hers in a soft and sweet kiss. Familiar sparks fly in every direction, and the world slowly disappears around them. She makes him feel like none of that matters.

Honestly before Elena, he never knew a kiss so innocent could be so intimate and electrifying. He pulls her closer to deepen the kiss. When he feels her hands on the back of his neck playing with the ends of his hair, a smile grows on his face as it starts to tickle and finally they pull apart.

Laying his hand on her slight bump, he meets her still cloudy gaze. "You wear me out, Mrs. Salvatore."

"I could say the same," she retorts, shifting onto her side, smiling as her eyes drop closed.

"I'm going to go onto the deck to have a cigarette. I won't be long," he stands up and dresses, she's already asleep when he quietly slips out of their state room.

Stepping aside to allow a couple to pass him, he walks to stand at starboard side of the ship. Lighting it up, takes a drag and removes it from his lips, blowing the smoke into the air carefully. The deck is land and the sky is an ever changing art, made so beautiful by the clouds. A breeze kicks up, whispering like a lover, placing salty kisses on his cheek and tousling his black hair. The breeze is a mere hint of the ocean's power then when roused can toss whole ships like toys to smash on the rocks.

The moonlight is mirrored in the almost unruffled ocean surface and when a ripple curls it, the wave's crest glitters like a white flame. It lessens the inky blackness of the night, but not so bright as to dull the stars that speckle and glitter in the heavens above. Damon crosses his arms and lays them on the railing, then rests his chin on them.

Already homesick for Egypt, he envisions the pyramids, rising stark from the sand. How did they build them, how did they raise those massive blocks to the heavens to create them? He loves everything about the country, the people, the culture, the landscape, its magnificent history.

Losing himself in thought, his mind takes him to the ancient city, watching as the gallant and proud pharaoh enters the arena on his chariot, the crowds of people cheering, his army standing at attention, spears raised.

Sighing, he stands up straight to light another cigarette before rejoining his wife and son. Being part of the team that uncovered the greatest archeological find of all time, it's hard to quantify something like that. He knows that as long as he lives, nothing will ever rival it, even though, there's no curse, he still feels spellbound by the country and tomb...

After taking one more puff, he tosses the butt into the sea, he turns on his heels and leaves the railing to go back to their room, happy to know that in a few months they'll be returning to their second home...

_He strides purposefully through the ranks, ignoring their stares. As a general in the Egyptian military, he reports directly to the king. Historically the son of Pharaoh is provided with this honorable rank but since he has no children, Damon, his most trusted aide, is entrusted with the job. His clothing sets him apart from the other men, his wrap around skirt is tied at his waist with a belt, his sandals are made of the softest leather. _

_His feet hit the sand in a measured cadence that causes heads to turn, his hand wrapped securely around his spear. The air of authority is obvious the way he carries himself. His army bows their heads as he passes, their glances downcast as they take in his dark hair slicked in a neat ponytail, his blue eyes linger on no one. Behind him is the funeral cortege, carrying the body of their beloved king, taken from their realm much too soon. _

_Damon takes his place at the tomb's entrance, and with one tap of his spear into the sand, his army drops to their knees in reverence to their dead Pharaoh. When the wrapped body is brought inside, he follows after them, standing guard as they put the remains into the layered sarcophagus and place the gold death mask over his face. He gets down on one knee, bows his head and closes his eyes, his grip tightening around the spear at the grinding sound the lid makes when it's slid into place. Although he maintains his composure, the heartache he's' feeling is like a red hot coal placed in his chest, it glows and burns him at the same time. He will miss his friend, King Tutankhamen. _

_The high priest says a prayer and the aroma of Frankincense fills the burial chamber. When the ceremony is complete, he stands up and follows the holy man outside the tomb. With a wave of his arm, his men seal the entrance and begin to bury it to save it from tomb robbers, both now and in future generations._

_The priest turns to Damon, laying his hand on his shoulder. "Death shall come on swift wings to him who disturbs the peace of the King." _

_Damon understands, the holy man has placed a curse to protect the king's earthly resting place. _

_"As a reward for your loyalty to his majesty, you and all of your descendants will be spared from any death related to my decree." _

_"Thank you, your grace," Damon bows and after the man takes his leave, he joins his men to help hide the tomb's entrance. _

_It would lie undisturbed for the next 3000 years... _

_The End._

* * *

_Victims of the Curse of King Tut: The number of victims varied considerably from one newspaper to the next. At one point as many as 26 people were reported as being killed due to the curse and excavation of the tomb. There were in fact 26 people who were present at the opening of the tomb, which is probably where this figure came from. In fact, of the 26 who were present at the opening of the tomb of King Tut only 6 died within 10 years. A total of 22 people were present at the opening of the sarcophagus of which only 2 died within 10 years. A total of 10 people were present when the mummy was unwrapped and none of these died within the next ten years. The greatest testimony against the curse is the life of Howard Carter. He spent ten years of his life exploring and cataloguing the items in the tomb, if anyone was going to suffer the threats of a curse it would have been Howard Carter. Yet he lived for another 17 years after the discovery and died of natural causes when he was 64 years old. Source: History Embalmed . org _

_In 1999 a German microbiologist, Gotthard Kramer, from the University of Leipzig, analyzed 40 mummies and identified several potentially dangerous mold spores on each. Mold spores are tough and can survive thousands of years even in a dark, dry tomb. Although most are harmless, a few can be toxic. _

_Kramer thinks that when tombs were first opened and fresh air gusted inside, these spores could have been blown up into the air. "When spores enter the body through the nose, mouth or eye mucous membranes, " he adds, "they can lead to organ failure or even death, particularly in individuals with weakened immune systems." _

_These days archaeologists wear protective gear (such as masks and gloves) when working in a tomb or unwrapping a mummy (though more because of dust than fear of germs) something explorers from the days of Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon didn't do. _

_Much information also came from unmuseum . org_

* * *

_Thank you all for taking another journey back in time with us. We're going on a hiatus until Eva's feeling better, she's still in the hospital. Hopefully it won't be a long one. You guys are truly the very best. We both thank you immensely. She wants you to know how she is grateful for all the well wishes. _

_Here's a little peek at something I've been working on: Awareness comes in gradual stages. It begins with a series of tiny explosions that go off behind his eyes, intense detonations of pain that herald his return to consciousness. The mere act of parting his swollen lids is agony personified and yet he tries anyway. They burn. They throb. They ache uncontrollably. Tears leak from their bruised corners with his effort and yet… he persists. It's the first step in an arduous journey. _

_Thank you for understanding. Have a safe and wonderful day. Love you all._


End file.
